We'd Be Strangers
by BWxVSBxTMR
Summary: One wish was granted and destiny was changed. Foes became friends. Death became life. The truth became lies. War became fate. Who will you be to survive? To see your blood stain flesh crimson? To find love in murder? To live a new life? We'd be strangers. (Lost inspiration for the story)
1. Chapter 1

**We'd Be Strangers**

**Summary (full): **Imagine a world in which nothing is not not resolute. Where time can be turned, abused, and used. Where kings and queens hide in secret to our world and their world. A world possessed by a family with the ability to eliminate our decisions, our existence, and our Earth. Turmoil in our world froths, a chosen sovereign coddled in false truths but protected by unseen guardians. A decision to avert a collection of deaths can ultimately lead to the unraveling of both worlds or the gathering of affection connecting each world to another.

**Parings;** TRM/OC, RB/OC, JP/LE, LM/NB, SB/?, SS/?, RL/OC? - Warnings; this has slash (M/M), a pinch of uncesored language, and a dash of smut.

**Author's Note: **Hello friends. *wink* I will only repeat myself once, or maybe twice, I do NOT under ANY circumstances own anything that you recognize _(well duh this is a fanfic); _such as Harry Potter_ (again on a Harry Potter fanfic)_, or any refrences to others . . . coming later.

_A Harry Potter Fan Fiction_

**Prologue**

* * *

_**Potter Manor, Ipswich, England; 2027, 11:07 A.M.**_

"Give it back!" the young girl screamed to the older boy clutching _her_ doll. The boy, James, laughed and held the doll high in the air so that the jumping girl could not reach it. His cheeks flushed with mirth, hazel eyes glittering, and glasses sliding down his nose, he was the epitome of mischief. The girl, with fiery hair twisting around her face and shoulders, and unlike her brother a blushing face with anger and intolerance, arms braced and nose scrunched on a freckled face; getting ready to scream again. Thick-lashed sage eyes peered at the two on a round youthful face.

"Daddy," he whispered. "Jamie and Lily are argu'ing." Albus tugged at the sleeve of his father's shirt and pointed to the scene as soon as he held the man's attention. His almond shaped eyes crinkled and narrowed.

"James, give Lily her doll back now!" the man stated firmly, leaving no room to argue with. "Honestly! I turn around for one moment and those two have already gotten into mischief." He grumbled under his breathe, shifting his weight to the opposite foot while holding Albus. Lily smirked triumphantly and held her palm forward, the other placed on her hip. James sighed and muttered "joy-killer" and let the doll drop to his sister's outstretched hand.

"Hmm, now let's go upstairs to see your grandfather kids." the man said scooping Albus into a more comfortable position. James and Lily gazed at the great marble stairway and looked back at each other. No word needed to be spoken as they turned and scrambled up the stairs. Albus glanced at his father with furrowed brows.

"Where is Daideó?" Harry looked down at his son. He nudged his head toward the grand staircase where his other children were racing to the top. "Upstairs." Albus nodded his small head, unruly hair bouncing. Harry walked toward the stairs and started to climb them.

He watched out the 4th story window with a soft smile pulling at wrinkled skin. His hazel eyes turned to the faded maroon of the walls and rich tapestries. Squeals and jovial giggles rang in the halls. Shadows traveled across the walls where the mahogany door was cracked open.

"Daideó!" shouted his grandchildren minus one. Lily sprinted to her grandfather and climbed on his lap. She kissed his cheeks and looped her thin arms around his shoulders. James followed his sisters lead and leaned forward to kiss Daideó's lined cheeks. "Father." "Daideó!" spoke Harry and Albus in unison. Albus leaped out of his father's arms and into his grandfather's.

"Hello, my favorite grandchildren." Spoke the older man with mischievous eyes.

"Were you're only grandchildren, Daideó." James admonished. "And so you are." He raised his eyebrows. The he turned to Harry. "How are you my son?"

Harry chuckled and replied to his father, "Could be better, but that isn't exactly news with this handful." He motioned to his own children who were crowded around their Daideó. "Where's Ginny?" Daideó asked.

"Mama's over at a friend's house." Lily stated matter o' factly, her eyes wide. "Is she now," Daideó grinned at Harry who ruffled his own inky hair sheepishly. "Let us have some afternoon tea."

* * *

_**Potter Manor, Ipswich, England; 2027, 3:45 P.M. **_

"Who's that?" Albus pointed a dusty finger at an old, yellowish newspaper, a picture the object of the young one's question. Daideó's and the others glanced at the boy.

"This old thing?" Harry picked up the paper and blew on it so that the dust that had settled on it showered the air. He whistled in awe and read "1982." "Wow dad this is even older than me!" he exclaimed. Daideó's face lost its smile and his eyebrows furrowed with a frown. James cocked his head at his grandfather, but offered nothing.

"Now Albus what was it that you asked?" Harry coughed out in between gulps of musty air. "That. Who's that?" the sage-eyed boy pressed his small pointer finger to the picture. Now it was Harry's turn to frown. He glanced questioningly at the eldest in the room. "Give it here," the man rasped, holding out veined hands. His grandchildren grouped around him as if he were holding a cow leg and they starving wolves. Once he held the newspaper his entire face glowed with recognition, approval, and was it melancholy. The children pressed their faces around the paper, grasping the chair the elder was settled on for support.

"Who is he?" Albus chirped again. Crow's feet pulled at the old man's eyes as he trained them on the highlighted picture, a young man's portrait. His hair dark and skin pale. Clothed in a fine embroidered vest, waistcoat, and a pristine cravat. His photograph spoke of aristocracy and ignorance, but his eyes held a hardship and coldness of one who had not a life of royalty but of solitude and a great sadness.

"**Our New Leader**." Harry read from over his shoulder. "Who . . . is that?" he questioned in confusion.

Daideó huffed "Do they not teach you your history?" then he shook his almost white hair, strands blew in his line-of-view. They glowed as if they were pearls in the dimming sunlight. He remembered the days when his locks were darker than Harry's and his skin as youthful as Albus's. The memories when the man in the picture held the same healthy, youthful appearance as he. Their laughter, his wife's throaty laughter, and the other's laughter. He remembered _her _and _him _sittingtogether against the amber sky, telling them of who _they_ were and what had become of _them_ and _their_ lives. The pensive display clear on _her_ face when she told them of _their_ troubles and bloodshed that would soon be their own.

Harry, James, Lily, and Albus waited patiently for him to speak. Daideó hesitated; he had never spoken this tale to anyone – not even amongst his fellow **live** friends. "His name is Tom." His pearl eyelashes brushed his skin.

"Is?" asked James. "Don't you mean was?" Lily placed her two cents in. "No." he shook his weighted head.

"He is still alive?" Albus mumbled not really knowing the reality of his words. The old man expressed a tender but amused smile.

"Yes."

"The headline acknowledged he was our leader. Was it true?" Harry queried, blowing his messy tresses out of his glasses.

"No. . ." Daideó stopped. His withered palms quivered. "He _is_ our King."

"We don't have a king. I would've knew if we did! Heck, Daddy would've knew to!" challenged James. Lily nodded her orangey hair as well but then sternly glowered at James for his use of language. Albus gave a toothy smile in agreement. "James . . ." Harry warned. James just shrugged his shoulders.

Daideó waved his hand in a flourished manner. "I should not be surprised at how much the Ministry keeps from you. But they should at the very least recognize his power; after all he does allow them to continue with the pretense that they are still in charge."

"Are you grateful toward this so-called King?" contested Harry.

"I am. When he was but a mere child he faced treacheries that no other _mortal_ could even compare to. He assisted our world to become greater than it was, greater than it is." The enduring man presented.

"You act as though you know him, father."

"I did. I still do. We were close friends when I was in my 7th year at Hogwarts." Daideó's eyelids fluttered close when he revealed the absolute truth.

"You went to school with a King!" squealed Lily. "What was 'e like? Was 'e nice? How'd you become fr'nds?" Albus spewed. James eagerly leaned forward, thinking himself too old to beg. "I guess I know what we're doing for the rest of our visit," murmured Harry. He too was interested in hearing this story.

"_Settle down my children and I will tell you a story that starts long before your generation. A memoir that surpasses even Merlin's knowledge. Beware though, of the truth that you seek. For you may not like what you hear." _


	2. Chapter 2

**We'd Be Strangers**

**Summary (full): **Imagine a world in which nothing is not not resolute. Where time can be turned, abused, and used. Where kings and queens hide in secret to our world and their world. A world possessed by a family with the ability to eliminate our decisions, our existence, and our Earth. Turmoil in our world froths, a chosen sovereign coddled in false truths but protected by unseen guardians. A decision to avert a collection of deaths can ultimately lead to the unraveling of both worlds or the gathering of affection connecting each world to another.

**Parings;** TRM/OC, RB/OC, JP/LE, LM/NB, SB/?, SS/?, RL/OC? - Warnings; this has slash (M/M), a pinch of uncesored language, and a dash of smut.

**Author's Note: **Hello friends. *wink* I will only repeat myself once, or maybe twice, I do NOT under ANY circumstances own anything that you recognize _(well duh this is a fanfic); _such as Harry Potter_ (again on a Harry Potter fanfic)_, or any refrences to others . . . coming later.

_A Harry Potter Fan Fiction_

Chapter I

* * *

_**Grimauld Place, London, England; August 30, 1978**_

I stared at the moving sepia picture of my son. My _missing_ son, Regulus. Age 16, and would be going into his 6th year at Hogwarts, if he ever came back. Orion, my husband, believes him to be dead as does everyone else; but I _know_ my baby's alive. He just has to be! His damn brother ran away last year – that ungrateful brat – and got himself disowned for befriending those filthy mudbloods. Now Regulus is the heir of the Ancient House of Black and he is missing! My poor child!

* * *

_**Potter Manor, Ipswich, England; August 30, 1978**_

"James! Get your arse down here!" I yelled chomping down on a piece of marmalade toast. My best friend walked into the room after stomping down the stairs. He ruffled his messy black hair and grunted, thumbing his glasses up his nose. Dorea, James' mum, smiled at him and motioned toward the heaping pile of steaming sausage, fired eggs, tomato, cheese, toast, and thick strips of bacon. _'Yummm'_, my stomach gurgled and I reached for a handful of bacon.

James jumped on his chair and started shoveling food into his mouth. "Mornin'," James spewed out threw a mouthful of eggs. I nodded, but Dorea wrinkled her nose and shook her head in disdain.

"Remember your manners, James." She tisked. "_Honestly, women, they always complain._" I thought. James snorted around his food as if he could hear me.

"Post is here!" Charles Potter called out opening the window for the flying owls. The Potter's family great grey owl, Sloe, James' pygmy owl, Atlantis, and my gorgeous barn owl, Flax, landed in front of their owners respectively; holding The Daily Prophet in their beaks. Flax let go of the newspaper and stole a thick piece of sausage off my plate. I frowned at him but took The Daily Prophet off the cedar counter top.

"Any new news today?" James questioned (without food in his mouth) and leaned over my shoulder. My eyes raked the columns and stopped. _**Regulus Black Still Missing. **_I'm sure I looked downcast. My brother Regulus has been missing since we got off the train at the beginning of the summer. I didn't think much of it before but when my parents got involved I started getting worried. At first I had thought he was with his _friends_ and _the Dark Lord_. But then a realized my parents wouldn't get involved if he was with the Death Eaters. And there was the problem; something seriously bad would have to have happen for my _'parents'_ to go out in public and _ask_ for help. I love my brother. I mean we, will I, haven't been exactly friendly with him was because he got sorted into the house of slimy snakes and hung out with the Jr. Death Eaters.

Come to think about it, Regulus never called anyone a mudblood or really anything as he didn't talk to anyone else except for Datura. _Aislin Thorburn,_ she would be the only one to know where he is; if she wasn't missing as well. Thorburn would come over to the Grimauld Place and hang out with Regulus for hours. Nobody even knows where she lives so he didn't go to her house. She is our only hope of finding him and she disappeared! Merlin, I wish I could find out where he is!

"Still no news on your brother Sirius?" Charles asked me. I shook my head, my hair falling into my eyes. "No." Dorea sighed and leaned forward on her elbows; palm outstretched and patted my hand. Her cognac eyes sympathetic, she murmured;

"Maybe, before Hogwarts starts he'll be found." I snorted and so did James. "Hogwarts starts in two days mum." I nodded and added, "Yeah, and we leave for Hogwarts tomorrow." She huffed. Charles chuckled.

"Dorea, the boys are right. The probability that he will be found is unlikely." I glanced up. Charles hurried to correct himself. "That is, I mean it is unlikely that we will find Regulus before Hogwarts starts. But us Aurors are trying are best to find him." He leaned forward a mischievous smirk on his face, promising something good. Turns out it was gossip.

"Boys; I heard that there is going to be some type of tournament or something." He wriggled his eyebrows. James' eyes widened with excitement behind his glasses, making his hazel eyes appear ridiculously large. "Really?" He urged. I sloped forward in interest. "Yup. It's about the 7th years but it's not dangerous per say, though I suppose the house rivalry might be."

"What is it?" James and I demanded in unison. Both of our interests were peaked and we really wanted to know what this 'tournament' was about. Even Dorea was curious, as she cocked an ear toward our conversation.

"All the students' names will be placed in a cup – like the Triwizard Tournament – and be given the chance to be selected, with 9 others, and chosen to unify the houses together by living together." Charles affirmed. We slumped back and James and I looked at each other. We burst out laughing.

"That's all!" he wheezed.

"Like that will happen!" I cried. Dorea frowned at us. "Be nice." She scolded. "I'm sure that will be an adventure Charles." He scoffed, "Ohhh, it will be an adventure all right. But that's not all."

"I hope it will be better than 'unifying the houses'." James whispered to me non to quietly.

"A new 7th year student is going to Hogwarts." Charles smirked triumphantly.

"That's strange." Dorea acknowledged. "There has never been a new student at Hogwarts before, especially one as old as a 7th year."

"I wonder what house they will be in." James uttered. I leered at him. "Bet you it's a Hufflepuff,"

"You're on, 5 galleons." He offered his hand. I took it and shook.

* * *

_**Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England; July 4, 1978**_

_Thunder struck the black clouds purple. The wind blew harshly over the trees. Rain swarmed down, creating pools of water. Black coated the air. A child cried, hushed by a quiet coo. The infant yawned, its plumb lips forming an O. Brown-stone house loomed over the horizon. Dark shadows crushed the fluid figure on the cobblestone street. The figure halted at a sign frozen in the rain. __**Wools Orphanage.**__ It passed the rusty iron gates and climbed the crumbling brick and ivy to a wooden framed window. A hand of flesh rose and the locked window slowly unhinged. The figure glided into the window. _

_It hovered over an empty wooden crib. The child curled into its arms. Illuminated eyes peered out of the shadows. The figure stayed still. The child stirred but did not wake. _

"_You're here." The eyes brought pale flesh that glowed in the moonlight. "And the child?" The figure brought a palm over its head; pulling a hood off and revealing curling lushes' coal locks to the air. The hair framed a highlighted face with dark lashes brushing high cheekbones. _

"_His mother?" He inquired. Sharp lips turned down. _

"_Dead."_

"_Father?" _

"_Might as well be." The man's sharp teeth glittered in his mouth in unspoken words. The figure glanced up. "No." a hushed voice whispered. "I did not harm him. But a man that has to live a false life shouldn't pray to even live. I pity him." A chin dipped toward the infant child. "But it had to be done." _

"_Of course." A masculine hand grasped the rail of the crib. "His name," he breathed. The other's lips curved. "I fear you know it." And tilted forward, draped across the rail of the crib, placing the child inside on the thin mattress. _

"_Tom Marvolo Riddle." He exhaled. The figure placed a kiss on the baby's forehead and smoothed the downy black hair. _

"_Protect and watch over him. For I cannot always be here for him." It whispered. The man bowed and took the cloaked shapes' wrist and placed a kiss upon the fragile skin._

"_Yes, Milady." _

He jerked his head up clutching his bare chest. The silk sheets pooled at his waist. This dream he had been reliving every night for a month. **Wools Orphanage. **He had seen the place where he had grown up and knew that this dream had to do with his past. He ran his nimble fingers threw his hair and placed them on the bridge of his nose. He pinched his eyes shut, almost feeling his skin bruise with the force. His past and he wanted to rid himself of it. Make himself more than just filthy-blood.

"Think Tom, Think. Where could this dream lead to – what could it lead to? The night I was born . . . where I grew up!" He leaped from his bed, throwing the covers off. "Of course! Why hadn't I thought about it before!" Lord Voldemort padded across the rough wooden floor and pushed open the heavy door.

The sunlight filtered through the dirty, dusty, windows. The Dark Lord traveled down the halls at the speed of wind. He magicked the double doors open.

"My Lord!" A shocked servant hurried to stand.

"Prepare papers!" He sneered. "I am going to Hogwarts."

* * *

_**Mead's Blood, Tahlavel; unknown **_

A man sat hunched over his stool. He gulped down another shot of something brown and sluggish; his crowfeet pulling up with each grimace, showing the bitterness of the foul-looking drink. Drops trickled down his salt and pepper beard. His leather cheeks a rosy red. "Giv' me anoth'r, Graeme." he growled hoarsely at the barman.

"Ya' always ask tha', Haymitch." Another man cried out to the other. The group of men surrounding let ruckus laughter roll between them, clinking glasses together.

"You'll drink yourself dead if you have anoth'r, Haymitch," Graeme, the barman, warned incredulously. Haymitch snorted, "I ain't pay'n you dragon's dung to lectur' me. Jus' get me the damn alcohol!" The barman grumbled, but turned around to fetch the drink. The barman wiped a pint glass than slammed it down and reached for another. He looked over the men. Haymitch sighed and rubbed his whiskers.

"You know," a voice startled the man, "Getting pissed in Tahlavel isn't the wisest choice on your part. After all, this is the village with all the naughty thieves and creatures." Haymitch narrowed his eyes trying to get a good look at the stranger. But, as habitat may fall, the person was draped in what looked to be a type of skin covering from head to the bottom of their leather boots.

"You ain't me mot'er," he growled. The stranger let out a chuckle, an amused atmosphere radiating from them. "A good thing to, because you'd be hung be your toes, if your attitude is anything to go by." You could just _smell _the smirk on the stranger. They sat down two stools from Haymitch. Graeme finished wiping a mug with a dirty rag and came to stand in front of the mystery person.

"Well . . ." He raised his eyebrows as if to say 'you gonna order somthin' bud?'. The stranger lifted a gloved finger to their covered face. "The Alp-luachra Lager." Then looked at the old clock above the fireplace. "Make that to go." They sighed.

"We only do tha' for special cus'mer's." Graeme frowned. The stranger stood up and gave an odd-sorts of laughter. Haymitch studied the figure thinking '_what makes tha' person good enough t' ask o' tha'_?' Plucking out a cigar, lighting it with a flame that covered their leathered finger and leaning over the weathered counter top; the stranger murmured;

"Do you doubt me? After all my unexpected visits here?" a sigh passed through their lips, "What kind of woman would come here?" Haymitch's eyes widened. _'A women?'_ he thought incredulously. _'A women tha' comes 'ere – withou' business? Who t'e hell is she?' _Obviously the bartender knew who she was, because he smiled a toothy smile.

"Aah, tha' would make some might'y sense. Wha' brings you 'ere, milady?" Graeme questioned while fixing her drink. She rubbed her forehead, and blew smoke from her pursed lips.

"The Prince and I are leaving Tahlavel and Koenon for a while." Haymitch gripped his mug tight; _'she knows da' Prince, hell, well 'nough ta' leave wit' – she can't be!" _

"Not 'or any bad re'sons I 'ope," Graeme's eyebrows ticked. The women took another drag of her cigar.

"Nope," she popped the p. "Personal reasons." Then she muttered, "More like problems, actually." Graeme continued on as if he hadn't heard the last bit or he was just too damn polite to ask.

"'Ere you go, one Alp-luachra lager to go, milady" He slapped down the parasitic drink on the wood. She reached inside her cloak pulling out a coin bag. "Uhn'huh," Graeme's eyes crinkled. "Free o' charge."

"You can't keep doing that . . ." She trailed off.

"Anything for you –" the Bartender did not get to finish.

"–Bronwyn!" A deep, yet handsome, voice yelled from the twin doors of the bar. The women grasped the mug and took a long chug before she turned to the two men at the front door. Bronwyn glanced at them her thick eyelashes shading her and whisked into the night, bringing both men with her. Haymitch's jaw dropped. _'She is! An' I was ru'e to 'er! 'Oley shite!' _

* * *

"I was beginning to wonder when you'd show up." Bronwyn said scathingly to her brother and his _ceorl. _Her brother raised his hands in mock surrender. The other man, the _ceorl_, pulled his sooty-velvet hood off. He regarded her with excited gleaming eyes. She stared at him a miniscule smile tugged at her pale lips

"We were . . . busy," her brother wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. His _ceorl's_ cheeks flushed. "Daymeon," he warned. Bronwyn snorted.

"I inferred as much. You go at it like rabbits!" She sneered, but her eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Good to see you to, Bronwyn." The _ceorl _huffed. Clearly his ego was hit. She turned her marble gaze to his neglected expression. Bronwyn smiled tenderly at him, her now un-gloved hand stroked his cheek.

"Hello, Regulus." She breathed. His cloud gray eyes light up as he beamed at her, leaning into her palm. Daymeon watched their snuggle with a slight grin at his mouth. He cocked his body to Bronwyn's level.

"Do I get a hello too?" he jested. Bronwyn locked eyes with her brother; all tenderness disappeared and was replaced with regard.

"So you want a kiss now, do you?" She mocked. "Well I think not!" Regulus snorted at her theatrics. Daymeon just leaned even closer – if that was possible – so that his nose pushed against her own, freckle to freckle. "Ooh-kay," Bronwyn relented, as she pecked his mouth. Daymeon threw his arms around both Regulus and Bronwyn; squeezing them to his side and each other's. Each of their brows were touching the others. Their breath mingled and their eyes probed.

"I am going to miss both of you," Daymeon admitted. Bronwyn pressed her cheek to his as if to reassure him. Daymeon grasped her face and planted a kiss on her closed lips in goodbye. "We will miss you as well." Regulus mumbled into Daymeon's skin.

"Write to me as soon as you have spare time." This time Daymeon was speaking directly to Regulus, his _ceorl_ and _cópenere. _"Of course." Regulus whispered and gave him a kiss as sweet as aged wine. Bronwyn broke apart from them and headed toward the _Drýcræft Pegasus _– who were flicking their manes and tails like they had no care in the world.

"Make hast." She told the lovers as she prepared the_ Drýcræft Pegasus_ for the journey they had ahead of them. "We're off to see the Wizards, the wonderful Wizards of Hogwarts." She hummed bitterly. Daymeon and Regulus chuckled before parting with another kiss. Daymeon sighed;

"Be safe, my Ceorl." Regulus pulled at his neck sealing them in a short kiss once again. He buried his face in Daymeon's neck. "I love you." He mumbled against skin and cloth. They separated from each other's arms, and Regulus turned away from him with a glance of lust before joining Bronwyn on the Pegasus.

"Fare well, Daymeon." Bronwyn called to her brother while her magnificent black beast, Bleu, trotted in circles. Regulus had already climbed Viscaria and sent his lover a last longing look.

"And to you, my love!" Daymeon puckered his lips and blew a kiss at her, waving his hand mockingly after her. She snorted and pulled at Bleu's reins and swiftly dived into the cobblestone road with Regulus flowing after her. Both horses took off into a sprint, their hooves clattering on the road; leaving Daymeon standing alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**We'd Be Strangers**

**Summary (full): **Imagine a world in which nothing is not not resolute. Where time can be turned, abused, and used. Where kings and queens hide in secret to our world and their world. A world possessed by a family with the ability to eliminate our decisions, our existence, and our Earth. Turmoil in our world froths, a chosen sovereign coddled in false truths but protected by unseen guardians. A decision to avert a collection of deaths can ultimately lead to the unraveling of both worlds or the gathering of affection connecting each world to another.

**Parings;** TRM/OC, RB/OC, JP/LE, LM/NB, SB/?, SS/?, RL/OC? - Warnings; this has slash (M/M), a pinch of uncesored language, and a dash of smut.

**Author's Note: **Hello friends. *wink* I will only repeat myself once, or maybe twice, I do NOT under ANY circumstances own anything that you recognize _(well duh this is a fanfic); _such as Harry Potter_ (again on a Harry Potter fanfic)_, or any refrences to others . . . coming later.

_A Harry Potter Fan Fiction_

Chapter II

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unknown; September 1****st****, 1978, the Great Hall**

"Hufflepuff!" the Sorting Hat called from atop the last child's head. James' eyes followed the child to the Hufflepuff table as everyone else cheered – well let us forget the use of the word everyone because obviously the Slytherin's didn't give a shit about some poor sod that was sorted into that house.

"Was that everyone?" Sirius exclaimed while frowning. Remus gave him a questioning glance from his amber eyes. Sirius shrugged and told –.

"My Da said that a new 7th year was coming this year." James beat him to it. Sirius whacked him upside the head. "Ow! What the bloody hell was that for Padfoot?" James growled. Padfoot ignored him.

"And he said that there was some sort of other sorting to be done." he finished cheerfully. Remus' eyebrows rose as if to say 'are you kidding me?'

"Look!" Peter whispered pointing at the rising Headmaster. Remus made a mental note of the fact that the Sorting Hat and stool were still left out. Dumbledore clasped his hands together after preforming the sonorous charm on himself.

"I _would _like to formally welcome you to and back to Hogwarts with a delicious feast, but we still have some other business to attend to first." Dumbledore spoke with that irritating twinkle in his too bright of blue eyes. New and older students murmured like a tidal wave. Wondering why they were being prevented from eating to their hearts content. Dumbledore raised his hand to silence the students.

"First I would like to introduce –" "What's with the 'I would like to's?'" James muttered. "– a new student to Hogwarts. He has come a long way from Tønsberg, Norway and is going into his 7th year. Would you please join us for your sorting, Styrr Espen?" Dumbles finished jovially. A teenager with plain black tailored robes and a handsome, but irritated and simi-sneerish, face (indicating that he was indeed a pureblood) stalked onto the steps by the Headmaster and Minerva McGonagall, whom held the Sorting Hat.

"Let's get you sorted, my dear boy." Dumbledore clapped a hand to the boy's shoulder; making him scowl.

"Damn," Sirius muttered. "With that attitude he'll probably end up with the slimy snakes," James smirked at him, thinking of their bet. They could see Dumbledore's mouth move, talking to this Styrr Espen, Minerva's grimace, and her motioning for the lad to sit on the stool. He did just that. As soon as the hat touched his head a silence ensued on the crowd. After a few dreadfully long minutes, in which the students and staff were shifting in their sits, the hat cried out;

"Slytherin!"

Styrr Espen had a knowing smirk on his face as the rest of his new house cheered and the other houses clapped respectively, appearing quite unhappy with the fact that there was another Slytherin to terrorize them.

"Hah! Oohh! You owe me 5 galleons now!" James whopped, pumping his fist. Sirius bit his knuckle in disappointment while Remus and Peter were red-faced and wheezing with laughter. A few seats over a group of girls sat – Lily Evans among them – and they snorted at the Marauders expense.

"Hey, ladies," Sirius wriggled his eyebrows at them.

"Hi, Sirius." They chorused except Lily of course who murmured; "Don't encourage him!"

"How ya' doin–"

"– Now we have something special for our 7th years." Dumbledore's voice interrupted. "It is called the Congregation Movement. Now I understand that you may not know what that is so I shall tell you." He paused for dramatic effect. "The Congregation Movement is the choosing of a group of people, in this case students, no matter the diversity and placed them to live together for a whole year." In unison, all of the 7th years groaned; understanding what the Headmaster was implying. "In the beginning of this past summer we gathered all our new 7th year students' names and placed them in a magickal cup – similar to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. We have been waiting for tonight to let the cup select the students participating in this movement. Only ten students shall be selected and only from the 7th years. The students participating shall have privileges that only those chosen shall have. " His eye held an enormous star in them – how aggravating – as he motioned with his hand for the golden cup to be led into the room; taking place of the Sorting hat and stool.

"Please remain seated." The old man commanded.

"Let us begin," The room darkened as the cup lit up with purple-blue flames; making the jewels embedded in it glitter ominously. A lull overtook the Great Hall as the mass stared in awe and reverence at the flaming chalice. Albus Dumbledore's pale skin glowed chillingly against the flare of color. Without warning, a small piece of parchment shot out of the flames and into the hands of the Headmaster still smoking. All breathing ceased with anticipation and worry. Dumbledore appraised the paper before opening it.

"Lucius Malfoy." As soon as the cheers and a few groans erupted from the house of Slytherin and Gryffindor respectively, it stopped for another piece of parchment had dispatched from the chalice.

"Remus Lupin." The Gryffins' whooped, but only to be hushed again.

"Lily Evans."

"Styrr Espen."

"Some new kid," Sirius whispered to his friends.

"Sirius Black." Now people were clinging to the edge of their seats. It seems that only Slytherin's and Gryffindor's are going to be chosen. Oh the fun that they will have. Not.

"James Potter."

"Severus Snape."

"Peter Pettigrew."

"Regulus Black." Albus Dumbledore's somber expression faltered and so did the Marauders'. Whispers were aroused from the crowed, students and staff alike; the young Black was a 6th year and a missing one to boot.

"Silence!" Dumbledore's voice shattered the air. Will at least you know that the sonorous charm still works. He grasped another falling parchment still glowing around the edges.

"Aislin Thorburn." Make that two missing 6th year students.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unknown; September 2****nd****, 1978, Headmaster Dumbledore's Office, 9:28 A.M.**

"I shall not send my child to live in a room full of mudblood lovers and blood-traitors!"

"Nor will I send my son to sleep in the same room as Death Eaters!" The parents of each student argued. Some were standing shaking fists at each other. Temper's had risen and emotions shaken. The arguments had all been the same, though; saying that neither group would allow the other to let their children to live with each other because of prejudices' against the Slytherin's and Gryffindor's. The teenagers off in their own little bubble of anger and bickering, glaring indignantly at those in the opposite house with hatred. Only Styrr Espen remained uncouth. As he supposedly had done no wrong . . . yet.

"I will not tolerate my son living with a mudblood!" Abarax Malfoy shouted his normally cool skin blushing with anger. The only muggles in the room looked slightly alarmed, not really understanding the true meaning of the fowl word, but knowing an insult was directed towards their daughter.

"Now wait just a–"Minerva tried to pacify.

"How dare you!" Dorea Potter gasped, hand to her mouth.

"Yes, he dares–"Wallburga Black's voice was cut off by a soft rapt on the oak doors of the Headmasters office. It was truly unexpected as each voice was lost. Hadn't everyone arrived?

* * *

**Unknown; September 2****nd****, 1978, Unknown, 5:06 A.M. **

Blood showered the air. The split head and body fell to the knurled roots and dust soil. Drops of life's elixir smeared an elegant face. Sweaty ebony hair stuck to the profile. Arched eyebrows were narrowed in concentration above cloudy eyes. The male swung his dripping dagger around, dispatching another head. More blood filled the misty sky with its iron scent. The man squinted his eyes at the other figure clashing effortlessly with their attackers.

"Bronwyn!" he shouted. The women had just slit another throat and impaled another brow. She slowed in her ministrations to cock an ear towards her friend. "We need–" he bowed backward and stabbed at a ribcage. "– too–" a bruising ache pulsed through his jaw as he fell rearward, dagger falling from his hands. An ugly brute towered over him with a twisted looking knife rushing towards his chest cavity. The man shut his eyes. Gore doused his breast and already dirtied face. His eyelids fluttered open. There in all her grandeur stood Bronwyn. Her hand embedded into the brute's skull, slim fingers flaunting from the side opposing her wrist. She pushed off the man's head from her hand and peered down at her friend. His mouth parted in thanks.

"You were saying," She prompted. The man's eyes examined the woods in which their attackers had previously fought. He sighed, seems as if she had already eradicated the other assholes and disposed of their bodies.

"I _was_ saying that we should get a move on and do away with these pricks, but seems as though you already took care of that." He stated flatly. The women flashed her slightly bloody teeth at him as she pushed her braided coal hair from her cheek, leaving a trail of unmentionable gore on it.

"But of course, Regulus." The man snarled lightly. Bronwyn offered her relatively clean hand towards Regulus, whom of which still was sprawled on the leafy floor. Regulus clasped her hand as she helped him up. He snatched his dagger and wiped it on his frayed clothed thigh. Then sheathed it and strapped it to his flank. Bronwyn sashayed over to Bleu and Viscaria. Both _Drýcræft Pegasus _were poised as if they had not witnessed a homicide but as if they were watching grass grow. If you really inspected them you would find that both of their flanks were fuller, indicating that they might have stopped to munch on some southern red oak leaves. Bronwyn mounted Bleu not bothering to freshen up.

"You're so fucked up," complained Regulus. Bronwyn guffawed at him and motioned for him to hurry his sorry butt up.

"If you weren't so slow we would already be at Hogwarts," she joked, patting his dusty hair while Bleu trotted around Regulus and Viscaria. Regulus scowled and spat at the ground, rubbing at his grimy skin. Bronwyn inspected him for any life-threatening injuries; finding none. She exhaled;

"We are almost there. Let us move as if we were the draft over the sea. And only then shall we find ourselves in the sight of the castle." Regulus nodded and softly dug his heels into Viscaria's flank. The Pegasus' advanced toward the edge of the woods.

* * *

The pair stood by a statue of a griffin. Bronwyn smoothed out the soil and carnage from her partners clothes. She then grasped his neck pulling his forehead to her own. They locked eyes.

"No going back," she whispered.

"I know." Regulus acknowledged her, caressing her nose with his lips. "Do you have the papers?" Bronwyn patted her breast pocket.

"Let us get this over with then." She clutched his hand and let her magick pass through her skin. The griffin moved clockwise and stairs appeared. The couple leaped onto the first set of steps, waiting to be brought to their past. Regulus reached out a fist and rapped on the oak doors.


	4. Chapter 4

**We'd Be Strangers**

**Summary (full): **Imagine a world in which nothing is not not resolute. Where time can be turned, abused, and used. Where kings and queens hide in secret to our world and their world. A world possessed by a family with the ability to eliminate our decisions, our existence, and our Earth. Turmoil in our world froths, a chosen sovereign coddled in false truths but protected by unseen guardians. A decision to avert a collection of deaths can ultimately lead to the unraveling of both worlds or the gathering of affection connecting each world to another.

**Parings;** TRM/OC, RB/OC, JP/LE, LM/NB, SB/?, SS/?, RL/OC? - Warnings; this has slash (M/M), a pinch of uncesored language, and a dash of smut.

**Author's Note: **Thank you Madam Lestrange, Rose Diamund, tom-riddle-lover, and anonymous for your much wanted reviews.

***To Madam Lestrange** ***-** Thank you very much! This is my first time writing a story so there are probably much more mistakes to come. I look forward to your comments.

_A Harry Potter Fan Fiction_

Chapter III

* * *

_**Previously;**_

_**Hogwarts, Unknown; September 2**__**nd**__**, 1978, Headmaster Dumbledore's Office, 9:30 A.M.**_

"_Yes, he dares–"Wallburga Black's voice was cut off by a soft rapt on the oak doors of the Headmasters office. It was truly unexpected as each voice was lost. Hadn't everyone arrived?_

_. . ._

"_Let us get this over with then." She clutched his hand and let her magick pass through her skin. The griffin moved clockwise and stairs appeared. The couple leaped onto the first set of steps, waiting to be brought to their past. Regulus reached out a fist and rapped on the oak __doors. _

* * *

**Hogwarts, Unknown; September 2****nd****, 1978, Headmaster Dumbledore's Office, 9:30 A.M.**

An alarming quite had settled over the group.

"You were supposed to gather everyone, Horace!" Minerva McGonagall, the head of the house of Gryffindor, spat at the head of the house of Slytherin. Horace Slughorn nervously rubbed his tie together between plumb fingers. "I did," he reasoned.

"Then who is at the bloody door?" She cursed. A few snickers came from the teens but she quickly silenced them with a stern look.

"Perhaps," Slughorn started. "Perhaps it is a . . . house-elf." He didn't sound too sure of himself.

"Well then get the damned door!" Orion Black hissed at the Professors between clenched teeth. Albus Dumbledore signed and called out;

"Come in!" All gazes were centered on the door as it was pushed open. Gasps rang through the stale office air, and a cry of shock from Wallburga Black; whom clutched a table for support. There in the wispy shadows of the nock were two figures. The first, a man, stepped over the threshold and the second, a woman, followed. Their hands embraced. The light of the oil lamps and windows washed away all the gloom from their faces. Showing bloody, dusty features and clothes. The man stood tall and the woman proud. Admirable faces covered in grim. Nay, recognizable faces covered in grim. Older and more matured, yes, but truly different; no.

"Regulus," Mrs. Black gasped. Her youngest son's face showed no emotion. Held neither life nor kindness; just an emptiness, a mask. He did not acknowledge her or his family. The women moved pass Regulus to stand in front of the Headmaster's desk. She threw a creamy, weathered and stained envelope onto the desk.

"Read," she commanded to the startled and disturbed appearing Headmaster. But he did, hesitantly, pick up and open the envelope, wincing as his hand brushed a dark blemish. His old eyes read the letter, widening in surprise.

"Impossible," Dumbledore whispered, stroking his white beard. "No . . . how?" he looked at the woman and then at Regulus Black. The woman jeered;

"We learned." Regulus scoffed and added. "We took a damned test and got the results; stating that we passed as more than qualified to be a 7th year." The teenagers' jaws popped. Sirius stared at this brother in shock. Abarax Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"That is not possible." He sneered in disdain. The woman's eyes flashed in warning. "Even if you took the NEWTS you would not have been able to pass, as you would have skipped two years. Although you may be of pureblood, it is an impossibility."

"Enough!" The woman slammed her fist into the wood of the desk, splintering a fist sized hole into it. "You have insulted our ability far too greatly, even if you have an opinion. Do you think us simpletons? Or are we just too young to have such mental capability?" She condemned. Abarax Malfoy opened his mouth to answer but she interrupted him; "You know what, do not answer that." Regulus Black growled at him and all the others who seemed to doubt them.

"Having been said, we appear to have come just in time for this . . . meeting of sorts." He eyed the woman suspiciously. She grinned at him deviously, picking at her nails. Dumbledore placed the letter down, folded his hands, and peered over the two.

"Miss Thorburn, please refrain yourself from talking that way to superiors." Aislin Thorburn snorted quietly as though she was amused. Hell, even Regulus looked amused. "And yes, Mr. Black, you did come just in time for this meeting." Dumbledore took a breath, preparing for a long lecture. "You and Miss Thorburn have been selected for the Congregation Movement like your fellow students." He motioned toward the 'older' Slytherin's and Gryffindor's. Dumbledore opened his mouth as if to continue but was cut off by Miss Thorburn.

"Yes," she sighed. "We already know if the Congregation Movement. We needn't have a speech about it." Aislin then waltzed to Lily Evans, whom was standing near her parents. Regulus walked over to them, standing beside his friend. Mr. and Mrs. Evans stood behind their daughter, looking doubtfully at the pair. Praying to their God that Lily would not be made a fool. Aislin looked over Lily with a pleasant expression.

"And it would be a pleasure to have one such as adept as Lily to grace our presence." She was not sardonic. Lily stared gratefully at the girl. Aislin gave a small courtesy to Lily, before turning away from her to pause at the doors. Regulus smiled broadly at her, bowing and taking her hand.

"I look forward to getting to know you, flower." He took her wrist and kissed the pulsating vein. The Regulus orbited to his friend. Orion and Wallburga Black did not look furious, but rather astounded. Severus and Lucius gasped at their 'friend' while the Marauders openly gaped. Lily blushed a deep red that rivaled her hair-color.

"Wha-?" Sirius spluttered. His brother glanced at him with lidded eyes.

"We'll be in our room when you finish your, err, arguments." Regulus spoke. Minerva McGonagall watched them as they left the room. Then she turned to the audience.

"It seems as though this issue has been settled. We shall promote meeting's between the students and parents each weekend." Her eyes narrowed as she dared anyone to speak against her. No one could find an argument. Not even Abarax Malfoy.

**Author's Note:** Oh and Bronwyn and Aislin Thorburn are the same person. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**We'd Be Strangers**

**Summary (full): **Imagine a world in which nothing is not not resolute. Where time can be turned, abused, and used. Where kings and queens hide in secret to our world and their world. A world possessed by a family with the ability to eliminate our decisions, our existence, and our Earth. Turmoil in our world froths, a chosen sovereign coddled in false truths but protected by unseen guardians. A decision to avert a collection of deaths can ultimately lead to the unraveling of both worlds or the gathering of affection connecting each world to another.

**Parings;** TRM/OC, RB/OC, JP/LE, LM/NB, SB/?, SS/?, RL/OC? - Warnings; this has slash (M/M), a pinch of uncesored language, and a dash of smut.

**Author's Note: **Thank you Madam Lestrange, Rose Diamund, tom-riddle-lover, Guest, Po-mo, Story Teller, Larissa, Cici, Famous Star, go-go girlz, Bb, and anonymous for your much wanted reviews. First off this is only a preview of chapter four; as I have not finished it yet. But for reasonable excuses, such as family visiting and going to New York and getting sick, so I apologize and figured that I could at least give you what I have written so far.

***To Story Teller* -** Hehe, puppies are very distracting. Bronwyn is most diffenetly a fighter - you got that spot on! She also has many flaws that just haven't yet been mentioned yet, and might not be for some time. She has some tragic things that has happened to her such as; seeing loved ones die, being raped, and tortured. But later on she will explain why those things had happened to the others. I know it seems very _out-there _butit fits her personality. Bronwyn may not seem like she has a real personality but she hides behind multiple masks, as you will find out. She was affected by those tragedies making her darker than what she would have been, could have been, but _*I have been typing this word a lot* _has a sweeter, softer side that few have seen. Regulus and her brother, Alexi (whom of which has not yet been mentioned), has been on the recieving end of this side to her making them much closer than she had intended them to. Anyway, I also love Tom and Hermione stories and am happy to hear that you may be able to stomach Tom and Bronwyn. But _*here it goes again* _they will not get together for awhile and may not end up together in the end; you'll just have to read to find out!

***To Famous Star* -** I have completed many tests to make sure that Bronwyn would not be a Mary-Sue, she only borderlines, sadly. I am still working on her in general, but have her mapped out - if that even makes sense. For example, I have her whole live's story planned out but am still making constant changes to see what works out best. So if you have any suggestions feel free to voice them because I am more than willing to listen.

***To Cici* -** I know, Bronwyn is very sexy. ;)

***To Larissa* -** It's okay, I had to re-type Thorburn so many times because I wrote Thornburn instead! _*Hey it's hard!*_

***To Madam Lestrange* -** Yup, I have that way with writing. No, i'm just kidding. I didn't have any juice left in me to keep on typing, so I am glad it turned out that way.

Chapter IV Preview

* * *

_**Previously;**_

"_We'll be in our room when you finish your, err, arguments." Regulus spoke. Minerva McGonagall watched them as they left the room. Then she turned to the audience. _

"_It seems as though this issue has been settled. We shall promote meeting's between the students and parents each weekend." Her eyes narrowed as she dared anyone to speak against her. No one could find an argument. Not even Abarax Malfoy._

**Hogwarts, Unknown; September 2****nd****, 1:26 P.M.**

"And here we are," Professor McGonagall motioned toward a painting of two men, one a strawberry blonde and the other a brunette, in Greek togas. They were both joking around and shoving at each other's arms.

"Hmmm, remind you of anyone?" Remus teased James and Sirius. Sirius threw his arm across James' shoulders, grinning devilishly. Lucius Malfoy sneered down his pointed, pale nose at them. McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and the two friends in the picture stopped their horse playing to turn their attention to the stern professor.

"These are your new wards, Damon and Pythias." She motioned to the students behind her. One of the men smiled brightly.

"Welcome!" he chirped while his friend studied them. Lily smiled in thanks at his generosity.

"The house elves have already placed your luggage in your rooms." McGonagall paused. "Now I expect the best of behavior from each of you," she gave a grim look at the Marauders. "Choose a password and then you are free to explore your rooms."

"Well the password is not going to be chosen by you Gryffins." grimaced Lucius in distaste. Sirius snorted at him;

"Hah! Like were going to let you _servants_ choose the password."

"Watch it, Black!" Severus Snape whipped out his wand aiming at his chest.

"Actually," the dark haired man in the painting cut in, "the password has already been chosen."

"What– "

"By whom, Pythias?" The only professor in the area interrupted. The two men in the golden frame glance at each other.

"By the two others chosen to be in this room, of course." the strawberry haired man answered as if it were obvious.

"I believe their names were Regulus and Aislin," Damon prompted. Severus' dark eyebrows rose high.

"How could they have found their rooms?" McGonagall murmured in disbelief before she shook herself of the unknown answer.

"Could you still let us in?" the smart red-head asked curiously.

"Nope!" Pythias replied.

"Then how the devil will we get in?" James crossed his arms in a pout.

"Uh-huh!" Peter Pettigrew followed his lead. Severus' lips curled into a sneer at the rat. Pettigrew cowered slightly.

"You have to say the password." Damon stated flatly. "At least the other two had much more manners than you lot!" he muttered to his friend, who nodded in agreement.

"But we _don't_ know the password!" Sirius argued.

"Maybe, if you ask politely, we would tell you!" the man snapped at Sirius. His friend touched his arm to calm him. "Ἀχάριστος ἰδιώτης!" he spat at them.

"Then, _could you please tell us_." Lucius bit out impatiently.

"No, I do not think we shall." Pythias asserted gently.

"Why you little–"

"– Mr. Malfoy, watch your tone!" Professor McGonagall scowled. Lily being a problem solver light-up with an idea.

"Perhaps, if you can't tell us the password, bring Regulus and/or Aislin to us?" She questioned. Damon frowned at her but nodded left to retrieve them.

"See, that wasn't so bad!" Pythias giggled; laughing at the frustrated faces of the 7th years.

"Ruddy portrait" James glowered.

"Potter," McGonagall warned. Suddenly, Damon returned and the portrait opened with a bleary eyed Regulus Black peering at them. His cloud-colored eyes widened – the affect was laughable. Regulus looked as if someone had rubbed their bare feet against a rug and tapped him. It was truly electrifying.

"Gosh, I had completely forgotten that you would be coming so soon." He then rubbed his neck and beamed shakily at them. Regulus pushed open the portrait more so that they could come in. "Thank you, Damon, for getting me,"

Said man elbowed his friend and then looked at the other students and rolled his eyes at them. Styrr Espen's eyes narrowed at the portrait.

* * *

End of Preview


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